


Shattered Minds, Broken Trails

by Amateur_Sketch



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: California, Gen, Gunslingers, Long distance travel, Male-Female Friendship, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Nevada, New Reno, Past Relationship(s), Science Experiments, Vajuero, West Coast, Wild Wasteland, Wild West, long journey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-05-21 01:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amateur_Sketch/pseuds/Amateur_Sketch
Summary: Six years after the battle at Hoover Dam, Raul laid down the gun once more to live a peaceful life in Goodsprings with the Courier and her friends. Ten years pass and all seems well for the ghoul until he begins to exhibit odd behavior. After blacking out and harming someone he cares for, he flees the Mojave in shame.Now with the help of friends, the Courier will travel out of the boundaries of the Mojave in search of Raul, hoping it isn't too late.





	1. A Day in the Life

**October 2297**

The sun rested high above the sleepy town known as Goodsprings, giving the residents little mercy. The settlers did their best to not succumb to heat stroke while they tended to their withered crops and other mundane chores. Sunny Smiles patrolled the town with Murphy, a cyber-police dog she received as a gift from the Courier, Easy Pete was sitting in front of the saloon as always, while Trudy was inside tending to her patrons.

Just another day in this one brahmin town.

One of the residents who had been living there for the past ten years was sitting on the front porch of her home with an old friend. The two women who were now both middle-aged and long past their glory days, listened to Radio New Vegas while swapping stories and a bottle of whiskey.

Vix, once known as the Courier, propped her good leg on the railing of her porch and looked over the town with an empty feeling in her heart and a deep yearning to travel once again. Seven years earlier, she was helping a caravan when Vipers ambushed them. Raids were a rarity since the NCR took hold of the Mojave, but that night some of them had the courage and insanity only Jet or Psycho could give them and attacked while the caravan workers were making camp. Vix happened to stumble upon the attack and intervened, resulting in shrapnel from a grenade striking her left leg. She was low on stimpaks before the fight broke out and after the fight, she donated them to the injured. Because of this, her leg didn't heal properly and now walking long distances was painful. Since that day, she'd been stuck in Goodsprings, traveling very little.

Her deputy badge flashed in the sunlight as she shifted in her chair for a more comfortable position. She yawned and blinked to stop the burning in her sleep-deprived eyes. What she wouldn't give for a soft and comfy bed to fall into at that moment.

She took a drink from the bottle and passed it back to her companion, Rose of Sharon Cassidy. The older woman took off her hat, revealing the gray streaks in her red hair, and began to fan herself.

"I can't remember the last time it was this hot," Cass commented.

"That's because it's always this hot," replied Vix.

"Not always. Remember that one winter the temperature dropped so low we got heavy snow?"

"Yeah, I remember and poor Soda didn't know what to do." Cass giggled at the memory. "How is that kid doing anyway?"

Vix stretched out her crippled leg to relieve the tension in it. A sharp pain shot down from her knee to her calf, making her wince in surprise and reminded her that all her medical knowledge couldn't save her from forced retirement.

"He's good. Boone took him shooting this morning. They should be back in an hour."

Cass took another drink and passed it back to Vix. Vix took a long swig, only leaving Cass enough for one more sip. The redheaded cowgirl snatched the bottle back from her friend and finished the rest off.

"Jesus, Vix, you need to calm down. Don't wanna slip back into your old ways, do you?"

Vix chuckled at this and took a cigarette from her breast pocket. Years ago, she would have never considered herself to be a smoker, but the last seven years had been a stressful time for her and nicotine was the perfect stress reliever.

"Don't worry about me; I'm not going back. I made a promise to myself I wouldn't." But Cass wasn't so sure and the Courier saw this. "I mean it, Cass, I can't afford to go back. A lot of people rely on me in this town."

That was a partial lie because Goodsprings didn't really need her at all. A lot of folks didn't these days...

Cass was still skeptical but didn't argue any further about the issue. After all, she was far from perfect herself and her own demons had yet to be faced. She decided to change the subject as to not start an argument with Vix. Her friend seemed to be forlorn as she stared down at her bum leg. Her gaze drifted up to landscape before them and she sighed.

"You okay there, partner?" Cassidy asked.

Vix blinked and turned her attention back to Cass. "Hmm…? Oh… right, yeah, I'm okay. Just thinking."

"Thinking about Veronica?"

Vix felt a pang in her heart at the mention of her former lover and best friend. She couldn't blame Veronica for choosing Christine over her. First love trumps all and all that jazz. Although she was happy for the two, it didn't make her leaving less painful. The only cure for a broken heart was to simply not think about it or at least try not to.

"I'm not thinking about Veronica. I was just remembering when we fought those brother-sister weapons dealers in Freeside. What were their names again?"

Cass raised a brow. "You mean the Van Graffs? Yeah, I remember those shitheads and I remember how long it took for the NCR to do fucking shit about it."

"We did the right thing, though."

The cowgirl scoffed. "Did we? Because sometimes I wonder…"

"No one was killed. That's a good thing. Well, most of the time."

"Whatever you say, Courier."

Cass checked her old pre-war stopwatch and realized it was getting late. She had to get the caravan back on the road. If she were to be late again, the NCR would fine her for it. She stood from the rickety wooden chair and stretched her small frame.

"Are you leaving?" Vix asked.

"Unfortunately," Cass replied. "I've been late for delivery in the past and the NCR can be real dicks about it. I'll be back in a few days though, so save me a seat at the saloon."

Vix was disappointed but understood. Back in the day, she had made a few late deliveries herself and the receiver would sometimes withhold payment or dock her pay.

"Sure, Cass, see ya around."

She watched as her friend disappeared into the Saloon to collect her caravan employees. Within half an hour Cassidy's Caravan was gone, leaving the Courier to patrol the town, even though she knew she didn't need to.

The townsfolk greeted Vix warmly as she limped around the town with her walking stick in her left hand. She often wondered if Sunny gave her the task of deputy simply out of pity rather than seeing her skills for what they were. It wasn't like anything ever happened here. Sure, sometimes raiders will get a wild hair and decide to try and invade the place but that was rare these days. No one was stupid enough to attack with the NCR and Brotherhood of Steel patrolling the roads.

The day continued into the evening. So far the only interesting event to happen was Sunny throwing a drunk out on his ass and a few teens getting chased by geckos because they couldn't follow simple orders. Damn kids, she thought. Then she had to deal with a domestic dispute between a husband and wife. No one was hurt, thank goodness but their shouting was making everyone else nervous. It wasn't uncommon for that particular couple to argue, though. Still, Vix wished she could lock one of them up just to teach them a lesson.

By the time the sun had made it to the west, her shift had ended. The moment she walked through the door of her home, her duster coat, armor, and badge came off and she traded those for a light shirt and a skirt for more comfort. Sodapop would be home soon and hungry. Taking out a pound if deathclaw steak, she began to cook one of his favorite meals.

Vix was in the kitchen, cutting fresh vegetables and adding them to the deathclaw meat sizzling in the pan when Soda and Boone walked through the door. Soda with a green gecko tossed over his shoulder and Boone masking his pride with his typical stoic nature. Soda slammed his kill down on the table, with a loud thump. Vix jumped and spun around.

"What in the hell is that thing?" Vix asked.

"It's called a gecko, Mom. You'd think after all the years of wandering the west, you'd know," Sodapop replied sarcastically.

Vix glared at her son. "Watch it, kid. I may have a bum leg, but the other still works good enough to kick your ass."

"I'm only teasing," he replied.

"Well, anyway, you and Boone take that thing out back and clean, 'cause I'm making dinner right now."

Soda looked at Boone for back-up.

"Come on, Soda, let's do as your mom asks," Boone said.

The boy huffed and reluctantly followed the former NCR sniper outside. Vix shook her head as they walked around the side of the house.

Sixteen years ago, Vix found out she was pregnant shortly after the battle at Hoover Dam. It was then she had regretted spending the night with Benny and even sparing his life. She had never considered herself the maternal type and didn't know what to do. In the end, though, she packed what weapons and supplies she needed and fled to the Big MT with Veronica and Rex, where they spent the next eight months surrounded by machines and scientist. When it was time, she lied in the bed, the machines staying quiet to give her some privacy. The lights gave her purple glow in the room, claiming it would calm her, but only a small dose of Med-X seemed to take the edge off. For hours, she labored with her friend by her side giving encouragement and checking to make sure everything was going well down there. Vix's abdominal muscles tightened painfully and her loins burned like thermite when it was time to push. Never had she been in so much pain or screamed so loud. Poor Rex hid away in the other room, frightened for his human. By midnight a baby boy entered the messed up, irradiated world. Veronica cried and hugged Vix, telling her she did a great. Vix wanted to cry too, but she was too exhausted.

Two days later, after Vix rested, she named him Sodapop after a character in a book she read as a child.

Now that baby was a fifteen-year-old boy. He was already a head taller than her and his muscles were lean from hard work. In another year, he would be a man and old enough to go on his own adventures. She made sure he knew how to survive in the Wasteland, but that didn't stop her from worrying.

She ran her fingers through her Unsettled black hair and finished the deathclaw stir fry. After setting out the plates, she made Yucca juice. It was at that time Boone and Soda came back inside with the meat already wrapped and packed in the cellar's freezer.

"Smells good!" Soda said as he plopped down into the chair.

"It's your favorite, deathclaw stir-fry," replied Vix.

"Yes!" The boy took a large helping and began to dig in.

"Grab you a plate, Boone, and dig in. I made plenty."

Boone shook his head. "No thanks. I'm going to the Saloon for a bit."

"What? And miss out on a home cooked meal?"

"Sorry, but I'm not in the mood for company."

Boone turned and left the house. Vix placed her fists on her hips and huffed. It was to be expected, of course, but she wished just once he would socialize with everyone more. The only person he seemed to want to be around these days was Soda and even then Soda had admitted that Boone wasn't much for conversation.

"Soda, be a good boy and go fetch Raul, won't you? At least I can count on him to stick around."

Soda looked up from his half-eaten plate and swallowed a mouth full of meat. Without complaint, he pushed himself away from the table and stood up, sadly walking away from his meal.

He made his way down the hill and took the short trail until he came to the tiny shack at the end of the road. His mother told him it once belonged to a peculiar robot named Victor. When the robot left, Raul took over the shack. Vix said that Raul once lived completely alone near a deathclaw nest without a friend in the world. Soda found that to be sad because Raul had been like an uncle to him, teaching him how to repair everything from toasters to weapons. Even learning Spanish from the old ghoul. Some folks in town didn't like the idea of a ghoul living with them, but he kept to himself, only interacting with the townsfolk if they needed something repaired.

He lifted his fist to knock on the metal door when he heard something strange on the other side. He leaned in and pressed his ear to the door and listened in. Growls and muttering could be heard. Soda thought maybe Raul had found himself a dangerous pet, but that didn't sound like any animal he had heard before. Except for maybe…

"No, we'll die if we don't flee… Rafaela… run… " Raul said on the other side.

More incoherent muttering and growling.

Soda backed away slowly from the door. His mouth went dry and his heart raced in his chest. Raul couldn't be going feral… could he? No. It was impossible.

A crash could be heard from inside the shack followed by high pitched shrieks. He turned on his heels and ran as fast as his long legs could take him back to his house.

Vix scooped out a hearty portion of dinner for herself when Sodapop burst into the house, frantic and panting.

"Soda, what did I say about running in this heat?" She noticed the color had drained from his face and his eyes were wide with fear. "What the hell happened?"

"Mom… it's Raul… strange noises... something's wrong!" he panted out.

Vix set her silverware aside and rose her from her chair. "Wait here. I'll go check on him."

She made it to the shack, her leg throbbing and begging for rest. She pounded on the door and called out to the ghoul. After several more tires, she threatened to kick down the door.

Finally, the door crack open and a sliver of light cast itself on Raul's face. He glared at her, but he didn't seem pissed.

"Christ, boss, can't a man rest in peace? Or in pieces in this case…" the old ghoul deadpanned.

"Soda said he heard strange noises coming from your shack. Are you feeling alright?"

"Sure, just taking a nap."

"He said something was wrong."

Raul opened the door to his home, giving Vix a better look inside. Everything was neatly put away in its place as he had always kept it. The only messy area was his workbench.

_But Soda had said that something was wrong, yet everything seems normal… that boy, I'm gonna give him a talking to after dinner!_

"He must have heard me just waking up," Raul said. "These old bones ain't what they used to be, boss."

She understood, feeling her own age creeping up on her. "I know that feeling. Listen, I sent Soda down here to tell you dinner is ready."

He brightened up at the mention of food and stepped outside. "Count me in. I better not get food poisoning from you, boss."

Vix laughed. "No promises."

Soda waited for his mother to come back for what seemed like forever. A thousand horrible scenarios ran through his head the longer she took. Raul, thin and gangly, pinning his mother to the ground as he ripped her to pieces. He looked down at the food that was quickly growing cold, realizing he was no longer hungry.

_Stop thinking about gross shit like that!_

Outside, he could hear his mother's laughter, giving an ease of mind. Vix had returned with her ghoul companion in tow and everything looked to be okay. Raul didn't look like a feral and Vix didn't look as if one had chewed her face off. That meant things were great, right? Well, it didn't feel that way to him. Something in the pit of his gut told him that not all was well with dear old Uncle Raul despite the cheerful outward appearance.

"Are you okay?" Soda asked the ghoul.

"For a man over two-hundred years old, I'd say I'm doing pretty well," Raul teased

"I thought I heard you in pain."

"It's called getting old, kid."

"Enough talk. Let's eat before my masterpiece gets cold!" Vix said.

"You and I both have different opinions on what's a masterpiece, boss."

Occasionally, he'd glance up at Raul, searching for any clues as to what might be wrong. Raul would always say his mind wasn't as sharp as it used to be, but Soda never believed it. Sure the old ghoul would forget something, but most old people were forgetful. So that meant Raul would be fine. As dinner wore on, he shrugged it off or at least buried his worries deep down so he wouldn't lose sleep at night.

Soda ate his meal in silence, listening to Vix and Raul reminisce about their days exploring the Mojave and how Vix had a hand in taking down the Legion. While most kids would hate to hear these stories after some time, Soda loved them and loved the fact that he was the son of a hero. He hoped that someday he could make a name for himself as well.

They gathered in the living-room after dinner to listen to the radio. There was talk of the NCR bringing back television so they could broadcast their own news and programs, but that rumor had been going around for years and so far nothing happened. Soda didn't care, though. The thought of staring at a screen for hours on end did not sound appealing to him.

Come next year, he would be old enough to be on his own, exploring the Wasteland and meeting interesting people like Vix used to. Maybe even going beyond the boundaries of the Mojave. He heard the wild stories about New Reno.

He lied across the sofa, thumbing through a copy of  _¡La Phantoma!._ Because Raul had taught Soda Spanish from an early age, he knew what was going on. Even if he couldn't understand it, he still read for other reasons such as her tight purple suit.

"You know," Raul began. "after the war, Rafaela and I would sit inside an abandoned building and look for radio signals."

Soda looked up from his comic and asked, "Why's that?"

"Looking for survivors, looking for entertainment. Those kinds of things. Once we found a shortwave radio and came across a number station."

"A number station?"

Vix, who had a cigarette hanging out the window, chimed in. "Yeah, those creepy stations that read off numbers and play disoriented music."

"Yep, those. Poor Rafaela was so scared she didn't sleep that night, but it didn't stop her wanting to listen in again. We talked about finding them, but then I got sick."

"Have you ever wanted to find them, Mom?" Soda asked.

"Hell no! The last time I followed a radio signal I ended up at the Sierra Madre," Vix replied. "There is no way in hell I'm going back there!"

"I remember when I followed you to that bunker. We were both gassed and when I woke up, you were gone. Didn't see you again until weeks later."

Vix flicked ash out the window and said, "At least there was gold at the end. Still wasn't worth it, though."

"You couldn't make me go out there."

Hearing this story multiple time in the past, Soda tuned them out and went back to his comics. Besides, Sierra Madre stories used to give him nightmares. He once overheard Veronica say that the Courier had difficulties adjusting after that coming back from that place. For years, she couldn't stand beeps.

Their voices drifted in and out of his attention span as he moved on to Grognak the Barbarian. He was halfway through when Raul announced he was leaving.

"Aw, can't you stay a little longer?" Soda asked.

"Sorry, but Rafaela is waiting for me."

Vix raised a brow. "Raul, Rafaela…" She paused, then said in a softer tone. "You shouldn't keep her waiting then."

Soda opened his mouth to say something but his mother shook her head.

"See you in the morning, kid," Raul said.

Raul stepped outside and looked over the sprawling land before him. He saw his family's farm and his father working near the corral with the  _caballos._  The aroma of his mother's cooking drifted outside of the house, his grandmother was sitting on the porch with Rafaela, and his younger brothers and sisters were playing in the front yard. He smiled to himself, happy to see that everything was normal. With the threat of nuclear annihilation looming over them all, it was good to see this peaceful scenery before him. He quickly made his way across the fields, hoping to make it in time for dinner. However, the moment he got to the barn the vision faded.

Raul stood in the middle of Goodsprings, not the open land his farm rested on. For a moment, he couldn't understand what was going. He no longer had grass under his feet, but instead sand crunch under his boots. The house and barn were gone and all around him were broken houses and some Joshua trees. Bighorners took the place of his favorite horses, but worst of all, his family was gone.

Something wasn't right and he had never been so afraid in his life.


	2. Static

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a friend help with some of the Spanish. If any of it is wrong I'm sorry. I didn't want to bug my friend too much.

When he first met Raul, he was frightened of him. Spending his first five years being surrounded by nothing but metal, appliances who talked, and floating robots who scolded him if he got too close. Soda had never met a Ghoul before. Even though his mother told him stories of them and how to tell the difference between normal Ghouls and ferals, he was not prepared for the site before him. Soda hid behind Vix, too scared to say hello. Vix gave Raul an apology, but he was understanding and knew that his appearance would take some getting used to.

Sodapop never knew his father. He figured he'd never meet him because, to politely put it, his mother had been around the block a few times in her younger years. He hated knowing that, but he heard the snide comments made at his mother and the conversations he overheard between her and Cass made it obvious that she had some sort of a past. He tried to get it out of Vix's friends as to who his father was, but none of them would talk, not even Raul. However, judging by the looks they would make when he was brought up in conversation, Soda knew that his father did something terrible.

He also knew, from his own features that his father was a white man. Being Navajo, Vix had dark brown eyes and tanned skin, while Soda's skin was a few shades lighter and his eyes were a deep blue. Once and only once, he managed to get Vix to tell him what else he'd inherited from his dear old dad. She sat there on the porch, watching the sun rise over the hills, taking her time on the answer. Then after what felt like forever, she finally told him.

"You have his jaw and when you lie, your left brow twitches a little. Just like him," she said the last part with a smile.

"Does he know about me? Am I the reason he left?"

She shook her head. "No and no. He left because he had other business to take care of and by the time I found out about you. He was long gone. He wasn't a very good man, but I'd like to think he would've done anything for you."

"Why won't you tell me who he is?"

She tugged on her bandanna and took a drink of purified water before answering him, "Because, kid, if I told you, you wouldn't like me very much. Now, no more questions. You'll get the information that you need when the time is right."

And that was the end of that. He couldn't figure out why Vix thought he would think less of her. In fact, giving him the information he needed would make him love her all the more, but she refused. So as the years went by, Soda put his biological father out of his mind or at least shelved him away. That was all his father was referred to.  _Him._  The man's name was never spoken and it frustrated Soda, but again, he couldn't dwell on it or else he would go crazy.

The lack of a father in his life didn't impact him as much as Vix had feared. Soda had male role models in his life to fill the void in his heart. Boone had taken to him right away and the moment he was old enough, the First Recon soldier bought Soda a varmint rifle. They spent many afternoons practicing it before Boone decided he was ready to learn how to snipe ferals. While he cared for Boone and often enjoyed their sniper lessons, Boone was too withdrawn, often coming off as cold-hearted at times, and he wasn't very much fun to be around anyway. Raul, on the other hand, was much more lively. He cracked jokes and told Soda interesting stories during their revolver lessons.

Early on in his childhood, he discovered he loved to tinker with old gadgets. Raul noticed this right away and taught him how to repair guns and electronics. One of his earliest memories was sitting on his living-room floor with toaster parts scattered across it. Raul sat beside him and showed him what each part was and its function. He remembered when they completed the toaster and Raul told Soda how proud he was of him. It made the boy's heart flutter with happiness and for a moment he wondered if his own father would have praised him this way.

Looking back, he thought maybe Raul was annoyed by Soda constantly pestering him, but if Raul was irritated by the child, he never showed it. He had more patience with Soda than Vix ever did (something she felt guilty about). As the years passed, their bond only grew stronger.

Once when Sodapop was about eleven years old, Raul took him shooting down in the canyons. It hadn't been a good day for him, but the old Ghoul wouldn't let him feel sorry for himself.

"Relax, kid, your body is too rigid," Raul would say during their shooting lessons.

Sodapop nodded and pulled the trigger again. He still missed the bottle and the bullet struck the rock. He fired off another round and still missed. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this.

"Relax," Raul repeated. "Getting upset with yourself won't do you any good. You have to stay calm because it could mean life or death in a real fight and change your stance."

" _Sí_ _,"_  the boy replied in a deadpan tone and tried again.

He tried again and still missed. Frustration knotted up in his throat and he wanted to cry, but he shoved the feeling down into the pit of his stomach. It had been a crummy day and missing more targets than he was hitting wasn't making it any better.

" _¡No puedo hacer esto!"_ Soda cried.

"Calm down, kid!" Raul chided. "What's bothering you?"

Soda sighed and said, "I don't know."

"Yes, you do. Tell me so I can help."

The boy looked down at the dirt and kicked it. "It's nothing."

" _Seguir."_

Why did Raul have to be so pushy? Why couldn't everyone let him be? But instead of venting his frustration out loud, he obeyed his mentor.

"Kenny Jackson is always giving me shit! Today, he tried to pick a fight with me and the only reason it didn't happen is that Sunny intervened. A girl had to come to my rescue! It was embarrassing."

"Your mother came to my rescue," Raul pointed out.

The boy shot of another round, still missing his target. He turned back around and said, "That's different!"

"How is it different?"

Soda thought for a moment on how to answer that question.

"A woman saving you hurt your pride, didn't it? It shouldn't."

"Kind of," Soda confessed. "I know I'd lose a fight with Kenny, but I'd rather get my ass kicked than have a girl save me."

Raul shook his head. " _¿Qué voy a hacer contigo?"_

The boy holstered his pistol. He didn't want to do this anymore.

"That's why my aim is bad today. I can't think straight and I'm angry."

A dust devil whirled around behind them and a raven cawed on a telephone pole. Raul once let his anger get the best of him and nearly landing him in jail. If it hadn't been for his family pulling him from that dark place, he didn't know where he would be.

"Come on, kid, pick up that gun and try again, but this time, I want you to put all your anger and self-doubt into your skills."

Soda raised a brow. "How will that help me?"

"Just do as I say."

He resisted a sarcastic comment and did as he was told. Soda raised the gun, waiting for Raul to give the okay.

"When you look at that bottle, I want you to see any doubts and fears you may have and I want you to destroy them with your  _pistola_. Now try it again."

He focused on a Nuka-Cola bottle in the middle of the row and imagined that Jackson kid's taunting words. His fears of never being good enough were projected on another bottle beside it. The revolver went off and this time, Soda hit his target. The glass shattered into little clear pieces all over the ground. He hit another target and then another. With each target, he began to feel a little better.

"Hey, it actually worked!"

Raul chuckled and said, "I knew you could do it. Whenever you're low about yourself, remember what I thought you today. I wouldn't use it in a real fight, though."

"Why's that?"

"That is a lesson for another day." He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Let's go home and see what poison Vix is making for dinner."

Soda couldn't imagine not having Raul in his life. He figured the ghoul would outlive him, but neither was prepared for what would happen in a matter of days.

* * *

The light in Vix's pip-boy burned out which meant it was up to Raul and Soda to find the parts and repair it. With ED-E buzzing behind them, they traveled to Primm early that morning and stopped in to visit Irene Nash, Johnson and Ruby Nash's granddaughter. Soda had convinced Raul that she probably had the part they were looking for. In truth, Soda had a small crush on Irene. He didn't know it, but Raul knew about it and only agreed to stop by Primm so Soda could see the sixteen-year-old working at the post office/general store.

They stepped inside and were greeted warmly by Irene.

"Hi, Sodapop, hey, Raul and you brought ED-E!" Irene chirped.

"Hey, Irene. How's business?" Soda asked.

"Slow as usual," she replied. She sighed and rested her hand on her chin. "I'm so bored and I've read all the comics and magazines in here and Mr. New Vegas replays the same old songs over and over. You'd think a prospector would have found him something new by now."

A New Reno girl such as Irene didn't take to the small town life all too well. She wished she could go back home but it was too dangerous for her to back now.

"It's why I stopped listening to the radio," Raul said.

"And you know what else? I haven't seen the strip!" Irene continued to complain. "No one will take me!"

 _This girl whines too much. I don't know what Sodapop sees in her…_ Raul thought.

He didn't hate Irene Nash, but he felt Soda could do better than her. He watched as the boy leaned over the counter and looked at the girl with bright eyes. Before the war, Raul once looked at a girl like that, but she rejected him saying that he was too reckless for her liking and she knew he was never going to change. She wasn't wrong. Love wouldn't have changed him, at least that's what he thought back then. It wasn't until years later(many many years), that he felt that way again. Only this time his feelings had to be kept to himself.

"Irene," Sodapop began. "I hate to bother you about this but do you happen to have any pip-boy light bulbs?"

She blinked and ran her fingers through her ebony hair.

"Sorry, I don't think we do. What is a Pip-Boy, anyway?"

Raul suddenly felt himself growing agitated. What a complete waste of time. He knew it from the beginning and yet, he still caved into what Soda wanted. Deep down, he knew it was wrong to become irritated with the kid, but trekking in this heat was a nightmare. The feeling quickly passed before and he wondered what had suddenly gotten into him.

"You could try the Prospector's Den. Heard they got a bunch of items from a vault outside the Mojave," Irene suggested.

"Thanks, Irene. I thought about trying them but I thought it wouldn't hurt to go to you first."

She smiled at him and Soda's face turned red. Irene reached out and touched his hand. Raul worried the boy would faint on the spot.

"I-I'll see you later, Irene," Soda said, his voice cracking and the end.

The boy turned and rushed out the door with Raul and ED-E on his tail. Irene stood behind the counter giggling at his nervousness.

Outside, a cool breeze swept through the town. It was a reminder that colder weather was to come. Raul made mental notes to winter-proof his shack.

Raul grunted at the force of Soda running into him. He looked over his shoulder, his anger rising within once again. Soda saw the look on Raul's face and shrunk away.

"I'm sorry, I was distracted…" Soda tried to explain.

"Getting distracted is a good way to get killed!" Raul chided sharply. "When you're there alone, you have to always be on alert. Understand?"

Soda nodded.

The boy tried to mask it, but Raul saw the hurt in his eyes. Guilt came over him and he felt bad for his sudden anger. There wasn't any reason to snap at the kid like that and he knew his anger was uncalled for. He couldn't figure out why everything seemed to get under his skin or why he sometimes saw his old life in brief flashes.

_I haven't been right in the head lately… Maybe it's old age. Yeah, that's it. I'm just getting old._

He placed a hand on Soda's shoulder and smiled at him.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'm just grumpy in my old age."

Soda tried to act like it didn't bother him but the hurt was still there. Raul didn't know how to assure the boy any further that he was really mad at him.

"As, don't worry, Raul. I'm fine."

They arrived at the Prospector's Den ten minutes later. Two women in leather armor were sitting by the fire cooking an unknown meat. Soda glanced down at them and gave a greeting. One woman returned it and the other glared. He quickly looked away, worried he somehow offended her.

Inside the cave, a merchant was leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. He saw the Ghoul and tried to hide his disgust. Once he finished off his cigarette, he tossed it to the ground.

"Hey there, need anything?" The merchant asked.

"Yeah, we're looking for a pip-boy light. Someone said you had them," replied Raul.

The merchant pretended to think it over before saying, "Yeah, we that item here, but it's gonna cost you."

"How much?"

"Five-hundred NCR dollars, plus three-hundred caps."

"That's ridiculous!" the Ghoul snapped.

The merchant, who was used to a customer's outburst, shrugged and walked past them. "Suit yourself, Zombie."

Sodapop saw something in his friend's eyes and noticed Raul's hand brush his revolver. It wasn't like Raul to get upset with anyone this easily. Most of the time, he had some snarky or sarcastic comment. Soda had to fix the situation quickly or there might be trouble.

Soda tugged on Raul's sleeve, getting his attention. " _Voy a regatear este cerdo racista."_

Raul gave a frustrated sigh and agreed. " _Continúa entonces. Estaré esperando fuera."_

The boy caught up with the merchant and began to haggle with him. Raul decided to leave the cave, even though the darkness was starting to feel comforting. He stepped outside and let the Mojave sun warm his face. Leaning against a rock eased his aching knees(Vix told him his bad knees were all in his head). He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself.

If he wasn't seeing shit that no longer existed, and hearing voices of those who had long since died, then the static in his head made it hard to think and see. It started off light then gradually increased, reminding him of prewar TVs after their programs ended at night. Next, his head would pound like someone took a jackhammer to it. After that, darkness…

He could hear that fuzzy static now. It was very faint, but it would increase in the next few hours. Sometimes he heard ringing and his vision would double. It happened to the Courier a few times when someone would give her a good bashing in the head. Rubbing his temples seemed to ease his symptoms and delay what would happen next.

After some time passed Sodapop emerged from the Den, grinning as he held up the Pip-Boy light.

"Got it!"

Raul chuckled and said, "You're just like your mother. A real smooth talker. She was able to trick some if Caesar's most elite men back in the day."

Raul placed the bulb in his satchel.

"Is Caesar's Legion still around?" Soda asked.

"Yes and no. Most of his higher-ups are dead, and after the second battle at Hoover Dam, their strength weakened. There are still clusters of Legionnaires to the east who remain loyal to Caesar's ways, but for the most part, they're gone," Raul explained.

Growing up, Sodapop heard the stories about Vix, Cass, and Boone storming into the camp with Rex and began to slaughter the Legion one by one. It was almost unbelievable, but everyone reassured him it was true. He didn't doubt his mother's abilities, but killing Caesar's men plus the Monster of the East couldn't have been a simple task.

When he was ten his Mom showed him the helmet of Legate Lanius. She had taken it off his dead body after an intense one on one fight with him. The battle had ended with one of her arms broken, two bullets wounds, a deep gash on her leg, and several bruises on her body, but after all that, she was still alive. General Oliver had said it was poetic justice a woman had taken out the Legion.

"I hope they're gone for good," Soda said.

"If they're gone then Arizona better have someone looking out for them."

Raul didn't say any more on the matter. Last time he gave his honest opinion on the Legion, Vix lashed out.

"Of course you're okay with them," she snapped. "You're a man! They wouldn't turn you into a breeding mare for their army!"

He shook off that memory. An angry Courier was not something he liked thinking about.

"Come on, kid, your mother will be waiting on us."

Raul let Soda lead the way in hopes that the boy wouldn't notice he was getting worse.

* * *

They found the Courier behind the saloon, shooting empty bottles with Cass and surprisingly, Boone. The women traded insults back and forth with each other as they littered the ground with glass shards. Boone, on the other hand, stayed quiet and let his skills do the talking.

It was common for them to do this whenever Cass was back in town. That or drink until their livers cried for mercy.

"I'm telling you, that Deathclaw nearly killed us! It was taller than this here saloon and it changed colors," Cass said.

Vix laughed. "That's bullshit! No Deathclaw can get  _that_  big and they aren't those type of chameleons."

"You should get out more often. Seeing more than Goodsprings will do you some good."

Vix patted her bum leg and said, "Can't do that with this thing holding me back."

She laughed again when she said this, but Soda could hear a tinge of sadness in her voice. He wished there was something he could do for his mother, but she was too stubborn to accept the help.

"Brought you that new bulb, boss," Raul said, interrupting their banter.

Vix holstered her revolver. "My hero!"

He scoffed. "Yeah, sure, I'm the one that saved you."

She took off her Pip-Boy and tossed it to Raul who barely caught it.

"Yeah, boss, let's throw around a piece of rare tech from before the war. I'm sure nothing bad could come of it."

"A tribal once banged it with a rock so I think it'll be okay," she replied.

Soda wished for his own Pip-Boy. A standard 3000, not that ridiculous Pimp-Boy 3-Billion Vix wore. Two weeks earlier, he had a birthday and he thought maybe he'd finally get one. Instead, he was given a Trail Carbine and a .44 revolver. He wasn't ungrateful for his gifts. In fact, the Trail Carbine was his favorite. He practiced with it whenever Boone took him shooting. Some thought the weapons were too powerful for a boy his age but Vix said it was best to train with them now rather than later. It was a harsh world and there wasn't any room for coddling. Before that, he trained a service rifle, before that a Cowboy Repeater, before that a piddly BB gun.

He followed Raul to the workbench near Chet's store. Beside that was the reloading bench. There were still some casings and gunpowder in his satchel. So while Raul swapped out the bulbs, Soda made .44 ammo for his revolver.

The repair was a quick fix and once he was through, Raul gave the Pip-Boy back to his traveling companion and worked with Soda making ammo for their guns. Occasionally, Soda would glance over at Raul to see him pinching the bridge of his nose or rubbing the side of his head. The look on the Ghoul's face told him that Raul was in a world of pain. Soda thought of asking him if he was okay, but then the seemed to pass and Raul went back to his work.

"Are you still leaving next year?" the Ghoul asked.

"Yeah, I think I am," replied Soda.

He glanced at Raul who was masking his disappointment. No one wanted the boy to leave and sometimes neither did he, but Soda felt that he had to. No, needed to. He wanted to make a name for himself, one that was separate from his mother's. Maybe he'd be like that ranger with a big iron on his hip or maybe he would be a deathclaw hunter. Or maybe they'd find his bleached bones somewhere out there in the desert…

"I was like you once," Raul said. "Back when I was young, I wanted to leave my ranch and go see what was out there."

"What changed?"

"My  _familia_  needed me more."

Sodapop didn't like where this was going.

"Are you saying I need to stay here?"

"No, well… maybe. You have a lot of years ahead of you and all the time in the world to think about what you want to do."

" _Estoy creciendo inquieto aquí. Si me quedo más tiempo de lo necesario, me secaré en esta pueblito."_

Raul chortled. " _Yo era como tú a tu edad, pero algún día te tranquilizarás."_

"But I'm not like you, Raul," Sodapop said quietly. "I mean, I'd like to be."

Not far from them, Vix and her friends continued to shoot bottles. Cass's flavorful language could be heard from where they were standing.

" _No quieres ser como yo,"_  Raul replied. "All I'm saying is, wait a few more years and-" his hand suddenly flew it his forehead.

Raul held onto the reloading bench as black dots speckled his vision and the static became worse. Soda was quickly at his side for support. He grabbed Raul by the arm and tried to guide him to Arcade's house, but the Ghoul wouldn't budge.

"No, get away from me!" Raul snapped. "It's happening again."

"What's happening again? What are you talking about?" he cried. Fear sent Soda's heart into a frenzy.

He shoved Soda back, causing him to fall against the reloading bench. Soda steadied himself and called out to Vix for help.

"Raul, let me help you!" he pleaded with his mentor. "Mom, hurry up and get over here!"

Raul pressed his palms into his eyes and his fingers dug into his head. He tried to fight what was happening, but a primal and angry side to him was surfacing and it was too painful to control any longer. All he could see now was red as if blood had spilled into his eyes. He couldn't recognize his surroundings anymore or the boy holding onto him. Fight or flight came over him as the boy grabbed him again and yelled at him to snap out of it. Raul snarled, grabbed Soda by the collar of his shirt, and slammed him into the side of the general store. In one swift move, he grabbed a wrench off the workbench and swung with all his strength. The tool collided with Soda's head and the boy went limp. Raul dropped Soda, who hit the ground with a thud.

Somewhere deep inside, a small part of him remained, screaming at himself stop this.

Vix heard the commotion and ran toward the general store. When she rounded the corner, shock froze her body in place while her mind tried to comprehend what was happening in front of her. Raul, one of her most trusted companions was attacking her son. She couldn't believe it. Her legs felt weak at the sudden realization, that her best friend was going feral.

Cass and Boone rushed passed her. Her senses came back to her and she found the strength to move again. Cass struck Raul in the head with the butt of her rifle, sending him backward. Boone gathered Sodapop into his arms and ran for the house on the hill.

"Let's get to Arcade's, now!" Boone ordered.

Vix ran after him, only glancing down at Cass and Raul briefly.

"I'll see to him," Cass said.

Vix gave a nod and turned her focus back to Soda.

_Please, please, don't let me lose him!_


	3. Final Days

After Doc Mitchell died a few years earlier, the town found themselves without a doctor. The Courier sent a letter to Arcade Gannon, asking for him to move to Goodsprings. To her surprise, she received a letter back telling her that he agreed. He was given the late doctor's house where Arcade stayed ever since. He told her he found Goodsprings to be boring, but it was safer than Freeside and he liked being a family doctor.

He left the room where he'd worked on Sodapop. As far as he could tell, the adolescent was going to be fine. A few stitches and some bed rest and the kid would be good as new. Arcade found Vix and Boone in the living-room. Boone paced in front of the fireplace and the Courier sat on the couch, looking straight ahead. Vix was the kind of woman who wouldn't let someone see her cry, but it looked as if she would any minute.

He cleared his throat, getting their attention. Vix blinked, snapping out of her trance, and shot up from the couch.

"How is he, Arcade?" she asked.

"He'll be unconscious for a while. He had a deep laceration to the right side of his head and had to have stitches. He may experience vision problems in that eye. Whether that's temporary or permanent, we'll have to wait and see, but before you ask, yes, he'll live."

Relief washed her at the news of her son, but she knew he wasn't out of the ballpark yet. She looked to Boone, who was as relieved as she was, but she knew he'd never show it.

"Can I see him?"

"Go ahead, but don't wake him."

She crept down the hall and gently pushed open the door. The only light in the room came between the slants of the boarded-up windows. Sodapop lied in the bed with his arms at his side, his chest slowly rose and fell, and his head was wrapped in bandages. A small spot of blood had soaked through. Poor kid, near-fatal head injuries ran in the Courier's family. She knelt down beside the bed and smooth the hair away from his face.

Soda whimpered and muttered something inaudible.

"It's going to be alright," she whispered.

She took his hand, feeling the rough calluses on the palms. He was too young to be experiencing the hardships of life. That was how the world worked these days, wasn't it? There wasn't any use in being soft. At least, that's what someone had taught her. If only she could remember who.

_Damn it, Benny, you take away my memories and leave me with a boy to raise. What in the hell did I see in you?_

Soda's hand twitched in hers and he began to squirm. She took out her own supply of Med-X and administered it in his arm. Soon, he relaxed and drifted back into a deep sleep.

Once, when he was a small boy, he wandered off from Vix and found a gecko nest. When he was older, he would tell Vix that he wanted a pet gecko. He didn't know it, but the mother had come back early to check on her babies. In the next minute, she heard Soda's terrified screams and found him cornered by an angry mother gecko. Rex raced after the reptile, giving Vix a chance to grab her son. Once they got home, she scolded him for running off like. She's couldn't stay mad at him though and looking back on it, it was more like fear than anger. Nothing like that had scared her before until she saw Raul, crazed eyed and snarling like a rabid animal while standing over her son with a weapon.

She couldn't believe it. All these years, Raul had been the last person he thought would harm her son. He was always kind and quiet, never having an unkind word to say about anyone. Even when he was being sarcastic, he never said something malicious. She tried looking back to see if there were signs. Now that she thought about it, she noticed over the last few months that Raul had become irritable and more isolated. She thought it was his imaginary old age he often complained about, but that couldn't be it. Nothing could explain the reason except for…

Dread set in her gut like a cold stone and she suddenly felt sick. He couldn't be going feral, could he? It was impossible. Not Raul. She shut her eyes and fought the tears that wanted to trickle down her face. The very thought of having to "put down" Raul was too much to bear. He wasn't an animal to put to sleep, he was a person. A human. She didn't care what anyone said on that subject. To her, Ghouls were as human as her or anyone else with flesh.

_If he is going feral, I'll be the one to end it if he wishes._

The front door opening and slamming shut took her out of her dark thoughts. Cass's familiar footsteps could be heard clicking on the wooden floors.

"Um, you guys, we have a mob outside!" Cass's voice boomed through the house.

Vix quickly rose from her where she was kneeling and her leg protested as she did so. Ignoring the pain, she quickly limped into the entryway where Cass, Boone, and Arcade were waiting for her. She pushed passed them and threw open the door. Sure enough, Cass was right. A crowd of twenty people, including Trudy and Chet, were standing at the bottom of the hill with weapons in hand. Sunny Smiles and Murphy were standing on the steps, trying to control the angry crowd.

Vix could feel and smell Cass's breath on the back of her neck.

"Chet helped me carry Raul to his shack. He witnessed everything! Once we laid Raul on the bed, Chet boarded up the shack," Cass explained.

"I knew this would happen!" a woman shouted in the crowd. Murmurs of agreement followed her.

"Ain't no good can come from having a Ghoul in the community!" Chet added.

More people in the crowd agreed. Vix's eyes rested on Trudy and she couldn't help but feel betrayed by the woman. Trudy averted her gaze away from the Courier.

"Alright, everyone, just calm down and let's talk this over like civilized folk!" Sunny said.

"There's nothing to talk about, Sunny," Chet said. "That Ghoul nearly killed Sodapop. How many other children are in danger?"

"Now just hold on!" Vix snapped. Her clear, authoritative voice silence the group below her. She made her way down the steps and stood in front of Chet. Her terrifying presence seemed to be working on him. "Listen here, you cheap, cowardly, no good son-of-a-bitch," she pointed her finger at him. "Raul has lived here the last ten years and hasn't caused us any trouble. He's done his part in the community and saved this sorry excuse of town more than once. He's fixed your generators, computers, helped build homes and after all that, you people still treated him unfairly. I've heard the awful things some of you have called him. And as far as I'm concerned, he has more humanity any of you standing here today!"

No one said a word. Most were too afraid to and had looks of guilt on their faces. Then someone in the back decided to voice his opinion.

"Ah, shut the fuck up, you NCR dick sucking whore!"

The mob quickly parted as the Courier closed in the space between her and some pot-bellied man wearing suspenders. He crossed his arms and puffed out his chest, with a smug grin on his face.

"The fuck did you just say to me?" Vix growled.

The man spat tobacco at her feet. "You heard me, you washed up old bitch."

Before that man knew what even happen, Vix punched him hard enough to send him sailing backward. The sickening crunch of his nose could be heard. He lied on the ground, his nose spilling out blood and two of his teeth laid on sand.

Through clenched teeth, Vix said to him with a shaking voice, "I've had a really bad fucking day and the last thing I need is some asshole mouthing off to me. You're lucky I don't shoot you where you lie."

A hand clamped down over Vix's shoulder, snagging her from the spell she was in.

"Calm down, Vix," Sunny said. "Gettin' pissed off isn't gonna fix anything."

Vix jerked her shoulder away from Sunny and stormed back inside to Arcade's house. She heard Sunny order someone to take the man back to his house so Arcade could look him over later. At this point, Vix didn't give a shit what they did.

She walked straight into the kitchen and ran cold water over her hand. After the blood was washed off, she splashed some water on her face, trying to calm her nerves.

"Oh sure, get water all over my kitchen floor. I don't mind," Arcade said dryly.

Vix shut off the water and dried her face with a clean dish towel. "Not now, Gannon, I've had a hard day."

"You've had a hard day? At least someone didn't take a wrench to your head."

Vix leaned against the counter and ran her fingers through her short, black hair. "Has he moved at all?"

"No, he's still out of it. I know it was risky, but I applied a stimpak directly to his head. It will help him get over his concussion faster. Give him until tomorrow and he should be okay."

Vix sighed. "Thanks, Arcade. I'm going to check on him now."

She didn't leave Sodapop's side that evening. At one point, she thought of seeing Raul, but couldn't look at him just yet. Even though she worried about him, she was still angry about what he'd done to her child. By nightfall, she'd dozed off in a chair in the corner of the room.

Sometime early the next morning, she was awoken by Boone.

"Is he awake?" she mumbled.

"No, but Arcade needs to speak with you," he replied.

She yawned and stretched before standing up. She limped into the living-room where she found Cass and Arcade sitting across from each other. A bad feeling in the Courier's gut made her heart take off again. She swallowed down the anxiety growing in her and sat beside Cass.

"You alright?" Cass asked her.

Vix nodded in reply.

Arcade crossed his arms and his brow furrowed from worry.

"I spoke with Raul yesterday," he said glumly.

"And?" Vix inquired impatiently.

The blond man sighed and frowned deeply. "I examined him, asked him questions, and well… from what I've gathered… Vix, I hate to tell you this, but Raul is going feral."

It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room and some punched Vix hard in the chest. She wanted to cry but was too stunned to do so. Her body felt numb and her throat went dry, making her stomach roll. One of her worst fears were coming true and she didn't know what to do about it.

"Since Ghouls can handle Chems better than we can, I suggest a high dosage of Med-X combined with a pre-war Chems called Calm-X and Daddy-O, should be enough to end it," Arcade suggested.

Vix raised a brow. "To end what?"

"A bullet will work just as good," Boone said.

Her mouth flew open. "How can you both be so heartless! Raul is our friend."

"That's exactly why this has to be done," Arcade said. "He can't suffer like this."

Vix thought back to the time she and Veronica found a feral in a cave. It was laying on the ground, starving and dehydrated. It didn't even have the energy to grab Vix's ankle. For the first time, she felt pity for ferals. She took out her rifle and ended its suffering. That was easy, but this? There had to be another way.

"I'm sorry, Vix, I know this isn't easy for you, but it's the only way," Arcade continued.

Vix looked down at her lap and took a shaking breath to steady her nerves. "Alright. Alright, we'll do it. First, let me talk to him one last time. He has every right to know."

The conversation continued, drifting down the hall and into the bedroom where a fifteen-year-old boy lied in bed listening. He covered his eyes with an arm as hot tears streamed down his temples and dappled the pillow. His jaw clenched as a sob rose in his throat and tried to escape. He bit it back, but his body still shook as grief ensnared his heart.

* * *

The Courier's visit with Raul didn't go the way either of them had wanted. She yelled at him for hurting Sodapop, yelled at him because her son could lose his vision in one eye, yelled at him because we turning feral and said it wasn't fair. When she was yelled out, he thought he saw tears in her eyes, but before she would allow them to fall she spun away from him.

After getting the diagnosis from Arcade, Raul had accepted his fate and was willing to take the Chems before he got any worse. He promised to stay in the shack from now on, deciding not to leave until the life had drained from his body. All he wanted was a few more days to say goodbye.

The townsfolk had agreed to leave him alone as long as he took the Chems. Time seemed to crawl along as he lied in bed in pure misery. He should have known this would happen. Maybe it was better she never stormed into Black Mountain and saved him. Maybe he should have stayed in his pitiful shack outside of Vegas and never followed that signal. Maybe he should have died along with Rafaella years ago.

He thought about Sodapop and hoped the boy wouldn't lose sight in his eye. It still felt like a bad nightmare he that couldn't wake up. If he hadn't hurt Soda, he would have left, no problem, but the fact that he nearly killed a loved one, meant he was no longer worthy of life.

By the end of the next day, Sodapop said his goodbyes. They talked and worked on a laser rifle for old times sake but neither spoke of what was to come. Raul couldn't look at the boy. How could he when the evidence what he'd done was stitched on Soda's head. It turned out that Soda was having some vision problems, but he brushed it off, saying it was getting better.

After Soda left, Raul took out a wooden box from under his bed and pried it open. He held the old weathered Pip-Boy in his hand. It was painted blue with a strange symbol on the side of the screen. A rifle with a lightning bolt over it and three stars above it. Scratched inside, it said, "at a minute's notice". He took it to his workbench and quickly went to work on it. It would be the last thing he could leave behind for Soda.

On his last night, he was huddled up in his bed trying to fall asleep. Tomorrow was his last day. By the time he was drifting off, a hard knock came to his door. He shot up in bed and crept over to the door. He called out to whoever it was, but no answer came. Instead, a slip of paper was slid under his door before light footfalls faded away from the shack. Curious, he took the note and held it under the small lamp by his bed.

_Before you decide to give up, I think I know someone who can help you. Just know the journey will be long and dangerous. You might not make it, but it wouldn't hurt to try, would it? Head north to New Reno and look for a Dr. Morris there. Rumor has it, he's working on a cure to stop ferals. If you care about Vix and Soda at all, you'll do this. I've unlocked your door. I left you a stealth boy and some supplies for the road. Hurry up and safe travels!_

_Sign, a friend._

Raul neatly folded the paper. New determination came over him. Even if this was a cruel prank, he had to at least try no matter how far-fetched it sounded.

He oiled the door before slowly opening it. There at his feet was a satchel and stealth boy. Once activated, he crept out of town. By the time it wore off, he was heading towards Sloan. He made it to Vegas by sunrise and by the time the day was coming to a close, the Lucky 38 disappeared behind the hills.


End file.
